


Red Eyes

by Pheasant



Series: Signs I Love You [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hospitals, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, M/M, One Shot, Sadstuck, Togetherstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pheasant/pseuds/Pheasant
Summary: They tried to get you to say something, some string of sounds or words that you wanted none of. You knew the sounds you wanted, you just had to find them again. It was only when they had you say the colors, blessedcolors, that you could speak what you wanted to speak. You found the first color and never stopped speaking it. Over and over, louder and louder, until the nice nurse held you in a hug and you stopped yelling long enough for anyone to respond.





	Red Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Who'd Keep the Whole World Spinning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/934018) by [fuckener](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckener/pseuds/fuckener). 



You were a mayor once. You existed, you know you did. You breathed and laughed and talked.

Gog, you talked. You talked to the people, you talked to your friends, you talked to the pretty woman that looked at you with such soft and determined eyes, you talked to the man who held the gun in your face and threatened to shoot only to break down crying when you begged him to stop, and you talked to  _him_.

If you could have anything back from your old life, you would have _him_.

Now, looking back through thousands of half-formed memories and remembering clips of half-formed dialogue, you realize you no longer know who  _he_ even was. You knew, once. You knew more than anyone else did because he told you so much and shared so much with you until your head almost exploded with the knowledge and he still kept telling you because if he didn't tell you then he could tell no one at all. And you listened. You listened and listened and you never even noticed how much of his talking was for your sake more than his. He talked to you when the silence was too loud, when the responsibilities were too much, when thoughts of war and those you had lost consumed you, when you forgot who you even were without your city. He talked to you when...

He was talking to you when the accident happened. When you were smushed shoulder-to-shoulder in a car with girls he knew on the way to a party you had wanted for so long, he talked to you. 

What had happened to him?

The doctors wouldn't tell you when you asked. Perhaps it was because they didn't understand the corrupted sign language you repeated over and over to convey your thoughts. It wasn't his name, it wasn't even a description. It was the only thing you truly could remember about him, beyond the suits and sarcasm and the raps he would whisper at you to calm you down enough to speak. You remembered what he was hiding, behind a wall of black and indifference, behind everything he made himself out to be. You remembered and it  _hurt_ to sign it over and over, only to get a pat on the head and sent right back into bed. You sign the letters over and over to them, to the nice nurse who tries her best to listen but doesn't understand and the mean doctor that doesn't care and the strange man with the sewed-up mouth who looked like he was dying when you signed the letters out to him. He signed words back but you didn't know them, barely knew any sign language other than the letters most precious to you:

R-E-D-E-Y-E-S

The nurse, the nice one in green who always smiles at you and never once made you feel as broken as you were, took you to speech therapy. You could sound things out now, after weeks and weeks of work. She only wanted to help, she wasn't fixing you. She made sure you knew that every time your steps became slower on the way to therapy, every time the mouth you let no one see twisted into a frown and it showed in your eyes. You could stop anytime you wanted, if you decided you did not want to speak again. You hated going and you knew you could stop.

You went anyway.

They tried to get you to say something, some string of sounds or words that you wanted none of. You knew the sounds you wanted, you just had to find them again. It was only when they had you say the colors, blessed _colors_ , that you could speak what you wanted to speak. You found the first color and never stopped speaking it. Over and over, louder and louder, until the nice nurse held you in a hug and you stopped yelling long enough for anyone to respond.

The speech therapist winces every time you said "red", now.

You stop going to speech therapy.

You got a visitor that you recognized on the day they said you could go home. She was a beautiful woman, but not the beautiful woman you called your friend. She looked like _him_ and walked like him and her laugh sounded so much like _his_ that she could have ripped out your heart and it would have hurt less. You know how you know her, she was the girl he called his sister. You remember her calling you "Mister Mayor" and laughing at whatever it was that you said. Saying anything had no meaning to you now, beyond that color. He would have called it a waste, you're sure.

Speaking only held one purpose and she could help you to fill it.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Your throat still hurt from yelling at the nurse who didn't like you, the mean one that pushed you down and said you couldn't have visitors, shouting a cacophony of "red" until someone had to hold you down. You couldn't speak. Again. So you asked the only way you knew how.

R-E-D-E-Y-E-S?

She looked confused at your signs, but she didn't wave you away, unlike everyone else. You repeated it when she asked, slow so she could see each letter until she understood what you had been attempting to communicate from the day you woke up in this white-painted prison.

R-E-D-E-Y-E-S?

She sounded it out, saying the letters and then making them into proper words that floating into the world like you were unable to make them. The words made her sad, but she didn't seem to understand what you meant. That was alright. You knew other letters too, though not as sure as those, and you could elaborate for the questioning look at invited you in instead of pushing you away.

S-H-A-D-E-S

 _That was what that wall of black was called,_ you remember. _He wore them always, until the day he didn't. When fireworks exploded overhead and you laughed at something he said, and for once you weren't the one talking, he took them off for you. You saw his ruby red eyes and he whispered something to you that he had never told a single other soul in the world. Then, before you could even try to respond, his lips were on yours._ You remember it.

That one other word, one you spent hours practicing before she came just in case she, like everyone else, did not understand, made her understand. She froze and violet eyes flew open in understanding. Tears welled in her eyes and you understood. You understood like you understood nothing else that had happened when you woke up only pieces of what you were. You understood and you didn't have to hear the words that fell off her lips because you _remembered_.

_The big car ran into them so fast no one could stop it, and he covered your body with his like he always did when you were in danger. There was so much pain, so much noise, so much light and nothing would stop. You lay curled and hidden beneath him and he spoke. He wasn't speaking to you this once, but you heard it anyway._

_"Oh God please, I'm not religious and I never fucking will be. But if you exist and you can save him... Please take me instead."_

Your hands fall back to your lap, no longer chanting for red eyes and now forever silent.

What was the point of talking, of signing, of anything when _he_ was gone?

The sister seemed to understand because she held you. She held you and you cried, and cried, and cried. You don't even truly remember him to have loved him, but you do anyway. You loved him and now he's gone. Gog, does it hurt.

You lay there in her arms, unmoving, and make a wish. If, when you die, there is an afterlife, then you wish that the first thing you see when you open your eyes is another pair of eyes in ruby red.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah... I found this awesome Dave/Mayor fic and I had to write something for it. My apologies, this is more of a feelings dump than anything.


End file.
